


you're too old to be so shy

by icemachine



Series: doom patrol daily drabbles [11]
Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Birthday Party, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-10-01 17:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icemachine/pseuds/icemachine
Summary: Rita has always hated her birthday. Unsurprisingly, she also hates birthday parties.





	you're too old to be so shy

Rita has always hated her birthday. Before the accident - as a child, as a teenager, as an adult, every age - it was because she knew that age  _ kills  _ you in the entertainment industry. When you get too old, you… melt. You melt away. You melt out of the media, you melt out of minds, you melt and melt until you’re nothing - until there’s nothing - until no one can remember your name. The roles stop. The recognition stops. Life stops.

Now she hates her birthday because it’s a reminder of that accident. Her old existence was selfish. Twelve year old girls shouldn’t hate their birthday. Twelve year old girls should be dreaming of the spotlight, and not dreading the day that it fizzles out.

Every year, she gets older, and it continues, it keeps going, she keeps going. The birthdays will always come. Always. Living forever is hard to get used to.

Larry is the only one who truly understands.

Cliff tries, but he’s younger than they are. Rita and Larry are from the same period, they know what it was like to live back then. Rita understands Larry’s internal quarrels because she’s faced them herself. Both of them, self hatred, for decades.

Unsurprisingly, she also hates birthday parties.

She doesn’t mind them, when it’s Larry or Cliff. Rita planned Larry’s 95th birthday party with Cliff, and it was - it was a comforting day, it pulled Larry out of himself for a while. She only hates them when it’s her birthday.

She doesn’t deserve that kind of celebration.

Turning 100 is difficult for everyone, but when you’re - when you’re  _ Rita Farr,  _ turning 100 is  _ hell.  _ It’s a reminder of her longevity, of how long it’s been since she left the baby—

It’s a reminder of her guilt. She’s been alive for a century. A  _ century.  _ She has seen so many things, and very few of them were good.

Rita can’t hold her form when she tries to enter the manor’s kitchen and is faced with Larry, Cliff, Vic, and  _ Jane  _ chanting  _ happy birthday  _ to her in unison. Happy birthday. It takes all of her strength to put her face and legs back together.

There’s a cake on the table next to two rotisserie chickens.

“What…  _ is  _ this,” she says. Quiet.

“Cliff told us it’s your birthday,” Vic says. He looks genuinely excited. Jane also looks genuinely excited, which sends shock into Rita because - Jane is  _ Jane. _

“Well, thank you for sharing, Cliff.” 

She marches past them, straight towards the chicken. Rita can hear a whisper, Larry’s smooth voice:

_ I told you this was a bad idea. She hates her birthday. _

…

“Come  _ on,  _ Rita,” says Jane. “Don’t be a bitch about it. Can you ever just relax and let other people do stuff for you?”

“Turning 100 is a big deal, you know,” Cliff adds.

“I—”

Rita  _ looks  _ at them. They’re - they’re  _ here.  _ People who care about her. She doesn’t deserve it, but they care about her. They care about her enough to pause their frantic search for the Chief in order to give her something good - something tangible - something  _ exciting  _ and warm.

Oh. Is this what a family is like? She can feel her face lose its shape.

“Where did you get the cake?” she asks, letting herself  _ go.  _ She lets herself go. She gives a smile, she looks down. It’s homemade.  _ HAPPY 100, RITA  _ is written in red frosting.

“Larry and I made it,” Vic says. “I hope it’s good. Neither of us really have any experience with baking.”

This is all for her. They did this for  _ her.  _ She’s going to cry, she’s going to blob. It’s too much. 

It’s perfect.

“Thank you,” she says, puts on her best performance of composure. “I appreciate it.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> :") i love them thanks for reading


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